


Boyfriend Lottery Winner

by rainftw



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alpha!Roger, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, First Meetings, M/M, Omega!John, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-25 00:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21108164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainftw/pseuds/rainftw
Summary: Roger gets shitfaced first day of Uni and manages to find the love of his life.





	Boyfriend Lottery Winner

**Author's Note:**

> side note: scent blockers are a thing in this universe.  
side note 2: pre-heat is abo verse's pms  
i make the rules but the rules dont make sense

Of course! Of bloody course! His heart leapt in his chest as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sprinting into the bathroom with the power resembling an olympic sprinter. With a look in the mirror mocking him, hair a dishevelled mess and dark blue-toned half circles occupying the skin beneath his tired bloodshot eyes. He sighed and brushed his teeth with unnecessary vigour. Storming out of his dorm room, slamming the door for good measure.

Arrive he did, on time. Shockingly. Not without paying the price of a greasy, sweaty scalp and embarrassingly loud heaving breaths as he walked into his new University, though. As he made his way inside of the lecture hall his breathing had slowed somewhat, he almost went lightheaded with trying to keep it as quiet as possible, not needing to embarrass himself as his first impression. With a hand running through his tangled hair, he found the nearest empty stool and grabbed a seat. Tapping his pen against the bench. Probably more out of excess adrenaline than anything else.

An hour moved by surprisingly fast when you were trying to absorb new information every two seconds. Roger found himself oddly excited as the professor had explained what they were to know by the end of the course. He didn’t know when the prospect of learning about genetics and cell biology started to excite him, he was beyond questioning it though. He was in a good mood. Terrific even.

Three lectures later didn’t even ruin his mood and at this rate he was sure he was going to win the lottery by the end of the evening.

“Rog, I think it’s time to head home don’t you think?”

He didn’t expect to be picked up from the floor of a dingy pub at 9pm. Far too early to even be this shitfaced in the first place. His head swam as his body tried to desperately digest the shots from the competition, that he’d _won_, mind you. A priceless competition, his headache in the morning surely wouldn’t be worth being crowned the sloppiest drunk on campus.

Freddie, having managed to haul Roger up on his feet, tried again. “Home?”

Roger’s brain took a few moments to process the statement, considering it for a moment before concluding. “Don’t wanna.” He even managed to add a pout of his lips into the equation, looking up innocently through his thick eyelashes in an attempt to convince Freddie to stay, for whatever reason he wasn’t sure, it just felt right. He saw Freddie try to protest as if per in slow motion, and just as his lips opened to voice this, Roger was off. On unsteady feet and a foggy brain.

He felt pleasant, floating around and smiling at people. There was a couple making out in the corner and he cheered them on, feeling strangely happy for two complete strangers. He received a thumbs up from the guy though, as he tightened the grip on the petite girl in his arms. Roger smiled to himself, on a mission to brighten the mood of everyone around him, feeling like pure bottled sunshine.

A boy sitting alone at the bar caught his attention, looking positively caught up in the condensation on his glass. He looked contemplative, not necessarily troubled, but tuned out. He had thin lips with a considerable amount of pout to them, giving his profile a pleasant look. The light sheen of them seeming to draw Roger to him like moths to lightbulbs. He plonked himself down on the unoccupied chair next to him, with lesser grace than he had intentionally wanted. The boy looked at him, startled, and Roger couldn’t help but notice how kind he looked, however deceiving looks could be, these eyes could belong to a murderer and he would’ve trusted them with his life.

“What are you doing?” Roger all but slurred, slumping his upper body against the bar. Attempting to balance his head in one of his hands.

“Huh?” The boy turned to face him, he was pretty. Very pretty, Roger concluded. He smiled.

“Hi.” Roger tried instead.

“Hello.” He had a lilt to his voice, his head tilted to the side in wondering.

“Having fun?” Roger asked, flashing his best smile. Or at least attempting to. While trying to focus his eyes somewhat. Multitasking is hard.

“Somewhat.” The boy answered, which was a vague answer. He was smiling though, brushing his long hair behind his ear with a large hand.

“Somewhat?” Roger repeated, brows furrowing. The boy just nodded, still smiling.

“That won’t do.” Roger concluded.

“Is that so?” The boy’s smile seemed to widen even further. Even in his questionable state, Roger could see the crinkles forming around his eyes. And his eyes were wonderful.

“Yeah, c’mon.” Roger said, as coherently as he could muster. Grabbing the boy’s hand without second thought and dragging him out of the pub.

He had managed to drag him an impressive distance from the pub, only tripping over once. When the stranger suddenly froze beside him. Roger turned to look at him, quizzically.

“It’s cold.” He muttered then, rubbing his hands over his arms in quick motions. Little puffs of smoke seeming to come out of his lips every once in a while. Roger’s head suddenly felt a lot clearer.

“Why don’t you have a jacket?”

“Why don’t _you_?” The boy countered, and, fair enough. He didn’t, apparently. But he _did_. At the pub.

Roger just shrugged, too much for his mind to process. He swayed a bit, lightly bumping into the boy’s side, his eyes slipping shut. He was more tired than he realised. All energy draining from his system with the alcohol slowly evaporating.

“Let’s get you home, shall we?”

Roger couldn’t argue with that, it sounded tempting.

It went against his basic Alpha instincts to let someone help him home, yet it felt natural as anything to walk arm in arm with this boy by his side. Roger wasn’t sure what his subgender was, even as he pressed his nose into his throat. A Beta possibly. His scent was nice nonetheless, kind of sweet. Roger kept his face stuffed in-between his neck and shoulder the rest of the way home.

He’d never forget waking up the day after that night. A scent so nice and sweet it made his head swim filled his entire room, a warm body spooning up behind himself. He exhaled a generous amount of breath and turned around to face the person. The definite _Omega _in his bed.

His breath caught in his throat when he realised it was _definitely_ the boy from last night.

He was even more gorgeous in the daylight, warm brown hair spread around Roger’s pillow. His lips seeming to be set in a permanent pout. Roger couldn’t resist reaching out to touch, running his thumb across the smooth, pink flesh of his lower lip.

He gently slipped his hand into the thick hair atop his scalp and carded his fingers through, and through and through. Until the boy yawned and blinked his eyes open, blearily. Something tugged inside of Roger’s chest then.

“Thanks for helping me home.” Roger said, stilling his hand movements. Resorting to just scratching his scalp gently.

“Not a problem.” The boy said. Voice rough with sleep and smiled, a gentle little smile. Roger’s primal instincts wanted nothing more than to claim him.

“I don’t think I got your name, actually.” Roger pondered.

“It’s John, John Deacon.”

Roger tested the name out on his own tongue and he could swear he hasn’t been the same ever since.

In fact he couldn’t remember the last time he felt quite like this. Quite this light and happy around another person. Like there was a trapped butterfly living inside of him, he felt giddy and unpredictable around John. Their relationship had quickly developed and before they knew it John had his clothes stored away in a drawer in Roger’s bedroom. Roger felt pride swelling within himself.

It didn’t take long for them to know each other through and through. Which is why Roger was confused when John had sat himself at the breakfast table one morning, without at least one _hint_ of a smile on his face.

Roger knew something was off when he’d watched John accidentally spilling some tea on their kitchen table that morning. Nothing particularly off with the tea spilling part, more the reaction it evoked. He could see John scrunching his entire face up, cheeks going red, and when he opened his eyes they were _watery_. Roger had felt confused because _surely_ this was a solvable problem? He’d voiced as much and nearly been smacked across the head, so he’d left John to his own devices for the remainder of the morning.

When he’d joined Roger on the sofa around noon, his eyes were puffy and he was sporting an impressive pout. Roger thought he looked adorable, despite his dramatics. He opened his arms invitingly, which was gratefully accepted, as he soon had a bunch of John’s hair in his mouth.

“How are you feeling?” He, almost whispered, into the top of John’s head, pressing a kiss into the thick mop of hair for good measure.

“Like shit.” John’s voice sounded so _small_ Roger almost cooed. His heart clenching painfully in his chest.

He hugged John a little tighter, pressing his head against his own chest. Carding his fingers through his hair in soothing motions, feeling John relaxing, if ever so slightly, against him. Slumping more of his body weight on top of Roger’s. Exhaling hotly against his throat.

“Wanna talk about it?” Roger prompted.

Silence. Roger’ll take that as a no. Maybe John fell asleep, he couldn’t see his face from where he was resting on Roger’s chest. He busied himself with watching John’s head moving to the tempo of his own breathing. One, two, three times. It was soothing in a way, made a twitch of a smile hint at the corner of his lips. By the sixth inhale something wet landed on his chest though, followed by the tiniest sniffle.

“John?” Roger wasn’t necessarily panicked. He felt a bit helpless though, not knowing what was wrong or how he could help. He wrapped both his arms around John and hoped it was enough.

“I love you.” John cried into the hallow of Roger’s throat, which was becoming wetter by the second.

“I know sweetheart, I love you too.”

Roger had been mildly confused before that. But when John had tensed at his reply, letting his tears fall more freely, confused wasn’t a good enough word to describe what he was feeling. John was shaking in his arms now, soaking Roger’s shirt in salty tears, clinging to him for dear life.

“Deaky, love.” He tried, carefully. Prying him away, ever so slightly, just to place a hand beneath his chin. He was met with swollen, wet, eyes and a tear streaked face. It took every single ounce of self control not to tear up himself, at that point. “Please tell me what’s wrong?”

John sniffled, once, twice. A stray tear falling down his cheek, Roger wiped it away with his thumb. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Roger’s heart broke at the insecurity in his voice and he nodded his head sincerely. “I promise.”

John’s chin started wobbling again, a fresh spell of tears forming in his forest green eyes. Clumping his eyelashes together. “I think it’s pre-heat hormones.”

Something in Roger’s brain clicked, then. It was _obvious_, and how he could’ve been that unobservant was beyond himself. He was a biologist, he knew exactly what hormones were going haywire and the possible effects they could bring on. He felt a surge of odd adoration at the fact that John’s body was preparing to have a child, their biologies in perfect tandem. This was not the time though. He cupped John’s jaw gently, urging his eyes to meet his own.

“It’s alright.” He tried, carefully.

John’s eyes welled up with a fresh wave of tears. Roger felt like no matter what he said, it was wrong. He tried again.

“It’ll pass.”

John didn’t stop crying, his facial expression changed however. He didn’t look quite as sorrowful as just a second prior, Roger couldn’t quite place it. Until-

“I bloody well know that Rog!” John almost screamed.

Roger winced. At least he could categorise that expression now, most likely anger. Or maybe frustration was a more suitable term. He didn’t know what to do. Perhaps he wasn’t _supposed_ to do anything. He continued stroking his thumb across the slightly damp skin of John’s cheek. Hoping he wouldn’t be pushed away.

“John,”

“No.”

John was really acting like a child at this point. He didn’t make any attempts at moving away from Roger, though. Instead pressing his damp face into the crook of his neck, almost burying himself there. Roger decided the wisest thing to do was to drop it, John was losing a battle against his raging hormones and he’d come around eventually. Roger would act as John’s personal cuddly toy for as long as he wanted him to.

Knowing the cause of John’s emotional state, it didn’t surprise him much when he was dragged to the bedroom not an hour later. Which John had cleaned perfectly, might he add. The pillows looking fluffy and the blanket laid out neatly.

He picked a giggling John up and started kissing his throat, basking in the tiny chuckles the boy in his arms let out. He laid him down gently on the bed, kissing the top of his head and stripping him of most of his tight jeans. Leaving him in boxers and _Roger’s _t-shirt. Roger loved seeing his boyfriend in his clothes, something that showed he belonged to him, somewhat.

“Hm?”

“I said it feels really good, keep doing that. Please.”

Roger had John sprawled out on his back for him now, laying alongside his body, rubbing patterns over his torso. It had started as a back massage, to which Roger was very happy to comply. It felt more like foreplay now though, with his hands rubbing over John’s nipples, slowly stiffening beneath his t-shirt. Roger lazily, almost subconsciously, moving his hips in tiny circles against the mattress.

Roger was close enough to rest his chin on John’s chest, and so he did. Experimentally moving his hand from chest to throat, not without a mumble of protest from the boy. He reached beneath long, thick locks of hair to thumb at the soft skin beneath John’s ear. Scratching the remaining of his fingers against his scalp. John sighed and relaxed even further, shuddering under Roger’s touches. It made Roger feel good, knowing he could help someone unwind with his fingertips. He leant down to breathe hotly into the crook of John’s neck and shoulder, revelling in the deep sigh from the latter.

“Rog.” Bless him. John sounded almost breathless with the short uttering of his name.

“I know.” Roger soothed, pressing a light kiss against his silky smooth skin. Hand travelling down his throat, shoulder, ribs, to rest on his hip. Never ceasing with the circular motions with his thumb. He pushed John’s t-shirt up slightly, to dip his fingers inside, feeling the skin there. Watching his face for any sign of discomfort, letting his hand travel upwards when he couldn’t find any. Just a light dusting of pink across his cheekbones. Roger thought he looked irresistible.

“Do that thing again?” John made eye contact with him then, shyly trying to urge him on. To do what, Roger wasn’t completely sure. So he asked.

“What thing?” His thumb continued its massaging in the space between John’s hipbone and ribcage. Against his warm skin, no longer separated from Roger by the fabric of his shirt. Roger was transfixed by the movements of his own hand beneath it.

John threw an arm across his face then, blush spreading down his throat, Roger wanted to see if it was even warmer to touch than his waist. But decided to wait it out, until John composed himself enough to face him again. Not wanting to overwhelm him. He did remove his arm from his face eventually. “That thing, with my nipples.” He mumbled, as if Roger would deny him his request.

“Of course.” Roger reached up to find the skin of John’s left nipple, circling it carefully. The skin had softened again, was addictive to touch. If he flattened his palm over it, Roger could make out John’s heartbeat beneath his hand, a delicate thumping, comforting. Not really quick, though a little forceful. Not quite nervous, more akin to overwhelmed. Roger propped his chin up on his spare hand.

“That good?” Roger asked as he rolled the hardening nub between his thumb and pointer finger.

“So good you-“ John let out a hitched breath “you have no idea.” John’s lips fell open as another shudder ran through him. Roger didn’t miss the way he squeezed his thighs together. Head resting heavily against the soft pillow beneath it, mouth still slightly agape, lips shiny. Probably from licking at them in an act of subconscious stimulation.

Roger gave a particularly hard pinch to the nipple he was playing with, earning himself a sharp inhalation and roll of hips from John. This is exactly what he wanted out of this, making John feel nice without overcomplicating it. The other prone to get off with the goal of coming. Not that orgasms weren’t extremely satisfactory. But Roger wanted to show him how good it felt to have each nerve ending lit, one by one, slowly. Until you not only _wanted_ to be touched but _needed_ it.

He took pity on John once he’d been rolling his hips relentlessly for a solid five minutes straight, his body begging for some sort of friction. He let his hand slide down and out from beneath John’s shirt, over the jutting hipbone of his, to nudge at the inside of his thigh. He splayed his hand out over the _impossibly_ smooth skin at his inner thigh, massaging it thoroughly, making John keen. A noise he’s never heard from him before. Roger felt proud.

He glanced up to John’s face then, was met by half lidded eyes. Another roll of John’s hips as he continued to knead the flesh at the inside of his leg, stimulating every nerve ending at once, so close to where John wanted him, but not quite ready to comply just yet. Roger slipped his arm from underneath himself, resting his weight on his elbow, as he let his left hand travel up into John’s hair. Scratching lightly at his scalp while his right hand continued at his thigh. John’s hips started bucking more frantically, the bulge in his pants straining.

“Rog,” His breaths were closer to panting by now, coming apart beautifully. “Please, please.”

Roger shushed him lovingly, tempted to continue fraying every single one of John’s nerve endings individually with the tips of his fingers. The way John’s abdomen was trembling slightly with need made him give in, though. Pressing his fingers to John’s perineum, through his underwear. Rutting his own hips into the mattress, a bit more forcefully, at John’s responding breathy moan.

“Look so beautiful for me, John.” Roger sighed, earnestly. Continuing his movements between John’s legs, making him spread them wider for him. He looked fucked out already, Roger had never felt as much of an animalistic _need_ to just take someone as right then. He didn’t, though.

“Scoot up, love” Roger continued, needing to feel closer, but still needing the full focus to be on John. The boy next to him complied easily, sitting up slightly and slotting himself between Roger’s spread legs. Roger missed the look on John’s face already, though the weight of his head on his shoulder was almost a good enough substitute. “That’s it.” Roger praised him.

Roger’s right hand wrapped around John’s waist, whole palm pressed hotly into his crotch now, feeling John’s pulse at his inner thigh, a quick fluttering. Roger moved his palm up to cup John’s balls, heavy with the need to release. Kissing his neck simultaneously. John seemed to be stuck in a permanent loop of shivers at this point.

He used his other hand to press John’s face into his own neck, making sure he could smell his arousal. John shuddered.

“Please don’t stop, please.” John was bordering on whining. Roger had _never_ gotten John to whine before, plead, sure. But not even that had been _this_ insistent. The boy trembling in his arms, begging for his touches as if he needed them to _breathe_. He slung one leg over John’s, carding the fingers of his left hand through his thick hair. Yanking at it a bit, to place open mouthed kisses along his jawline, as his other hand made its way just that final way up, to cup over his cock. It twitched violently in his hand. The fabric soaked through where he thumbed gently at the head.

“That feels so good, doesn’t it?” John nodded quickly, not able to stop the pleasured sighs anymore, letting them out with every other breath. Roger continued to stroke his cock through his underwear, in a lazy sort of pace. Firm enough to be pleasurable, slow enough not to let him come undone.

“You look so beautiful like this, feeling so good. Letting me take care of you.” Roger couldn’t help the words tumbling out of his mouth now, like word vomit. He wanted to see how much he could make John squirm, fascinated by how his blush had travelled all the way to the back of his neck. Warm against his lips, gently kissing at the skin there.

Roger started to rub at John’s chest with his other hand, as best as he could with the angle. Up, underneath his shirt again, which had ridden up enough for his palm to rest comfortably on his trembling stomach. John’s whole body was trembling, actually, Roger realised. Heat pooled low in his own belly.

“You can come, if you’d like.” Roger almost whispered in John’s ear. It wasn’t an encouragement, nor a command. Just a statement. He didn’t want John to come until the pleasure was unbearably overwhelming, he reckoned he was close though. If the way his thighs clenched was any indication. He leaned in to suckle behind John’s ear. Listening to John’s breathing getting more and more laboured.

“Ah, ah, ah.” John usually wasn’t loud, by any means, meaning the increasingly more frequent noises he made were genuine. Roger sped up the movements of his hand, if only by the fraction of a second. John tightened like a vice, head thrown back against Roger’s shoulder. His back arched so dramatically Roger almost felt the need to pull him back against himself, he stroked him through his orgasm in the same lazy way he’d been pacing things all night.

He didn’t stop until John started to whimper, pushing his hand away as the overstimulation grew to become too much. John turned his head then. Roger wished he had a camera handy, as lovely as John looked right then. Eyelids heavy over glassy eyes, hair a downright mess.

He ground his hips up into John’s ass. Just for friction. John had the audacity to fucking _giggle_ then. Roger wished for a split second that he possessed even half of the self-discipline that was expected of an Alpha.

“Shut up.” Roger grunted, burying his face into the juncture of John’s neck.

“I’d help you but I can’t feel my body right now.” John said, voice slightly rough. Pushing his arse back against Roger’s erection. Roger almost went cross-eyed.

“And whose fault is that?” Roger panted. Frantically rolling his hips into John’s warm body. Suddenly reminded of just how close to getting blue balls he was.

“Literally yours.” John snorted, still letting Roger use him as his personal humping pillow.

Roger inhaled deeply, nosing at John’s jaw, inhaling his sweet pheromones. Coming embarrassingly quickly.

After John’s first heat they spent together, it was harder to imagine his life without John than one where he was a constant. He uttered as much, cradling the lanky boy against his chest. John hummed in approval, scenting Roger’s throat. Roger felt as though he’d burst with love. He’d make it work. 

Roger felt like he genuinely did win the lottery finding him.

**Author's Note:**

> lets pretend this wasn't three unfinished fics smoshed togehter because i didnt have time to write today :(  
hope it was somewhat coherent and enjoyable either way<3  
this marks the end of joger week but I plan to improve my writing with this pairing further in the future. Bye for now, mwah<3333


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